Explain it as we may, we have always to remember that there are myriads
of human beings living now, and other myriads who have departed, who had
no chance to know the way of life. Will not the God of all mercy and of
all resource provide them with a chance on the other side of death? The
mere accident of death makes no change in them. And who knows if the
departed may not be more amenable to good influence then, than now? I
have heard of heathens who heard the Gospel but once, and they received
it, and were saved. It may be so with poor lost souls who had no
opportunity on this side of time.
One thing I cannot understand; and that is, the liberal terms in which
men at times express themselves, who yet profess the narrow orthodox
view. I do not say they are insincere; but it does seem as if they
deliberately ignored their own creed, and that they spoke for the time
out of the conviction and sincerity of their hearts. Just now, glancing
through a certain magazine, I have come on an instance of this kind. The
writer is a professor in a so-called orthodox Seminary. I leave any
fair-minded reader to say if his utterances are at all in harmony with
his professed orthodoxy. Here are a few of his sentences, selected
almost at random from a long article:
"In this swift day of unmatched opportunity, the Church is laboring,
perplexed and heavy, over its message." That is true enough. And I think
the secret of the Church being "perplexed and heavy" is, that preachers
must have an inward, unspoken conviction that their message of a limited
salvation is unworthy of God, and unsuited to the needs of the world. No
wonder the Church is "perplexed and heavy!"
Again this author says: "Men want to know that all the lines of diverse
human life converge into one infinite, beneficent hand." But if that
"infinite, beneficent hand" has cast by far the greater part of the
human race into eternal torment, it is no wonder if thoughtful men are
"perplexed and heavy."
Yet the writer of this article believes in universal love. He says:
"Men want to see that their single life, so lost alone, is vitally bound
into the bundle of universal love." So the author's instinct is better
than his creed. He professes to believe in universal love. That is
surely all right. But notwithstanding that, he professes to believe that
untold millions of the human race are in endless suffering.
In another place he says: "Men long to be assured that this is no
universe of short, fortuitous details." He also says: "The Kingdom of
God is too great for less than universal participation." Is this not
universalism? Yet, if the author were asked, would not his creed require
him to repudiate such an idea?
Again, this author says: "A few years ago science and human thought were
accepting an account of life which let a man fall like a beast in the
field, or a tree in the wood. To-day that explanation satisfies no one.
It is agreed that the meaning of life can be complete only in terms of
spirit and immortality." Is not the old doctrine of reprobation here
utterly denied? Yet that old doctrine of reprobation stands in the creed
of the orthodox church to-day.
One more quotation will suffice. Speaking of the divine plan, the author
says that it is "a plan so complete that no sparrow falls beyond it,
that no act falls fruitless, that there shall never be one lost good,
that no living soul made in God's image can ever drift beyond His love
and care." Is not this a flat contradiction of the author's orthodox
creed? We believe that all he claims is absolutely true. But is he
candid? Why has not the church the courage to expunge the old fatalism
from her creed, and present to the world a statement that she really
believes? I am persuaded that such candor is the desideratum of the
world to-day.
To a thoughtful mind, the most evangelical preachers are at times
unintelligible, and even contradictory, on such themes. Take this
extract from a sermon by Mr. Moody, published some time ago. He says
"Christ will return to the earth, for he has bought it with his own
blood, and is going to have it. He has redeemed it; and the Father is
going to give it to him."
Now, what does Mr. Moody mean when he says that Christ has bought the
earth, and that He is going to have it? Of course, it must be the
population of the earth that he means; otherwise, the words would have
no sense. Then, did Christ purchase the whole population? If He did,
there would be great equity in Him claiming the whole. But Mr. Moody
would be one of the last men to admit that Christ will claim the whole
of mankind. On the contrary, he professes to believe that the greater
portion of mankind is lost beyond all recall!
Such is the confusion and contradiction in which men involve themselves,
who are otherwise the excellent of the earth. There is no
contradiction, however, but glorious harmony, in the idea that Christ
will claim the whole of mankind for His own, because he has bought them
every one, and has omnipotent power to claim them.
I feel that I ought almost to apologise for using the word "claim" at
all in such a conception. It looks too much as if the Father and the Son
were somewhat at variance in the glorious scheme of salvation. A
thousand times No. I even doubt if in the actual suffering of Christ,
the Father did not really suffer by sympathy as much as He! This is
holy ground!
Consider this. We are commanded to preach the gospel to every creature.
But where would be the honesty of preaching the Gospel of salvation to
one for whom no salvation is-possible? For certainly, no salvation is
possible for anyone for whom Christ did not atone. But it is now tacitly
admitted by all evangelical churches that He died for all,
notwithstanding that the doctrine of a limited atonement is still
asserted in the Presbyterian Confession of Faith. Well it may; for if
the atonement were acknowledged to be universal, then this difficulty
would have to be faced--Why are all not saved? According to the doctrine
quoted elsewhere, that God infallibly accomplishes everything at which
He aims, all must infallibly be saved. For God certainly aimed at that
consummation in giving His Son as a ransom for all. Here is a crux from
which, it seems to me, there is no possible escape.
There is also this weakness--I might say this contradiction--in the
Methodist theology. They say that Christ died for all; but they teach
that all are not saved. Then He must have died in vain in regard to
those that are lost. That is the inevitable corollary. Not only did He
die in vain in their case; but His intention and desire was, not to die
in vain in reference to any. He certainly aimed at their salvation in
dying for them; but He does not accomplish it. To such horrible
absurdities are we reduced by denying that He died for all, or that He
will save all. The only logical, reverent, and divine solution seems to
be that He intended to save all, and that He will do it. "God will
infallibly accomplish everything at which He aims."
I lately heard an address--one of the best that I have heard--by a Canon
of the Episcopal Church. His theme was: The work and aims of the British
and Foreign Bible Society. The address was scholarly, lucid, earnest;
and the language was absolutely perfect.
But like every address that I have heard on kindred subjects, it never
so much as hinted at the results in the next life, if we failed in the
duty the speaker so strongly recommended. Not once did he speak of
eternal torment as a possible issue. What a tremendous incitement to
duty is here, could it be but presented with the accent of conviction.
But as a matter of fact, it is never presented at all, except in terms
so vague that they actually mean nothing.
I do not know, in the case I have referred to, if the Canon believes in
everlasting fire. Nor do I know that the creed of the Episcopal Church
endorses it. What a glorious opportunity is here for an earnest and
consistent minister in that church to publicly denounce such a doctrine
as a hideous dream! So far as I know, he would not expose himself
thereby, as in most other churches, to pains and penalties. I think, on
the contrary, a vast number would rally around him, both in his own
church and outside of it. Is not the religious world waiting for some
pronounced leadership on this question? I am convinced that there are
thousands of prominent ministers who do not believe in eternal torment,
but who keep up a pretense of doing so, in order to avoid loss of
reputation--perhaps of livelihood. Is it not time for earnest men to be
honest? And many are longing to be honest, if only their way was clear.
And what an incalculable boon would then come to the world! I am
convinced that honesty in this matter on the part of ministers would
speedily issue in a mighty revival. For what is it that mainly keeps so
many men, especially working men, from the Church? There may be many
causes; but one undoubtedly is, an undefined idea that there is no
eternal torment, and that ministers know it, but are not candid enough
to say so. These men may not have studied the theology of the case, but
they cannot think of God--when they think of Him at all--as casting
innumerable people, and pretty good people--into everlasting fire. They
have an idea that that doctrine is in the orthodox creed; and so many
have an impression that the whole system of religion is a melancholy
farce. But give them a man who has the common feelings of humanity like
themselves, and interprets the true God to them as a God of love--and
their whole attitude will be changed. I am convinced that nothing would
have such a wide and gracious effect, as honesty on this question of
future punishment.
I see that a notable Presbyterian divine has been giving a course of
lectures on The Church and Men. For one thing, he seeks to account for
the fact that working men do not attend church. After glancing at the
progress of science, and the effect of the higher criticism, he says:
"It is alleged that the church has sometimes alienated thoughtful men by
her adherence to outworn creeds." The lecturer, however, makes but
little of this as a real cause of working men not allying themselves
with the church. I think it is along this line, however, but deeper,
that the chief cause may be found. The church has, indeed, "adhered to
outworn creeds" in her confessions. The dogma of reprobation, and a
limited atonement, and everlasting fire, are retained. But are they
preached? Are they believed?
Not long ago, in a large evangelical congregation, the preacher asked
for a show of hands on the part of any who had heard a sermon on hell
for the last ten years. Two hands were held up. Was that doctrine
proclaimed last Sunday in any evangelical church? Was it proclaimed for
a year past, or ten years past? I doubt it. But if it is believed, would
it not be preached--yes, preached morning, noon, and night, with the
earnestness of frenzy?
Some preachers delicately approach the idea with hints and innuendos and
mild threatenings, which are really worse than utter silence. I heard a
preacher speaking lately of men as "utter failures, going out into the
darkness." Now, what did he mean, or did he mean anything? Again:
preachers speak of "eternal death," which might mean eternal extinction,
or eternal fire. And yet that vague phrase is actually proposed as one
of the bases of union of the churches.
Now, how can we expect such jugglery of sacred things to commend itself
to honest, hard-headed men? For such is really the character of many of
the working men. They love truth, and honesty, and consistency, and
abhor everything like sneaking, unmanly pietism? Give them the
manliness of truth and honesty, and I venture to think they will not be
so shy of the church.
Of course, that might involve the repeal of much of our creed. And
there's the rub. We are afraid of pains and penalties. And then we don't
like to go back on the fathers who made the creed. It looks like a
reflection on their wisdom and piety. But I don't think it really is.
They were faithful to their light. And they had to contend with evil
traditions. It is not to be expected that any creed they could frame
would be good for all time. Besides, we should not be afraid to go back
on anything or anybody that is not true. Truth is too sacred for that.
And our responsibility is too serious. 'Carlyle has a most scathing
warning for all who strive to believe that which in their inmost soul
they repudiate.
If it is thought that I am in any degree uncharitable towards ministers
of so-called orthodoxy, let me here transcribe a few words from a highly
honored preacher of the opposite trend of thought. I have just met with
these brave and candid words. They were spoken some time after I had
expressed my own views regarding the want of courage and honesty on the
part of so-called orthodox preachers. If anyone is disposed to think my
own words too strong, let him listen to this from an old and honored
minister, but one who repudiates the doctrine of eternal torment.
He says: "It matters not that all the educated ministry to-day well
know, and would not for a moment deny, their disbelief in the doctrine
of eternal torment, if cross-questioned. Nevertheless, many of them hate
us and oppose us, because we show the people the true interpretations of
God's Word, and lift before the eyes of their understanding a God of
Love, Just, Merciful, Righteous altogether, and fully capable both in
wisdom and power to work out all the glorious designs which He 'purposed
in Himself before the foundation of the world.'
"(1) They perceive that the doctrines of Purgatory and eternal torment
have not had a sanctifying influence upon mankind in all the sixteen
centuries in which they have been preached. They fear that to deny these
doctrines now would make bad matter worse. They fear that if the Gospel
of the Love of God and of the Bible--that it does not teach eternal
torment for any--were made generally known, the effect upon the world
would be to increase its wickedness, to make life and property less
secure than now, and to fill the world still more than now with
blasphemies.
"(2) They fear also that a certain amount of discredit would come to
themselves because, knowing that the Bible does not teach eternal
torment according to the Hebrew and Greek original, they secreted the
knowledge from the people. They fear that this would forever discredit
them with their hearers. Hence, they still outwardly lend their
influence to the doctrine of eternal torture, which they do not believe,
and feel angry with us because we teach the people the Truth upon the
subject, which they know will bring to them hundreds of questions
difficult to answer or dodge."
But it is not often that orthodox ministers emphatically present the
horrors in which they profess to believe. Take, for instance, Dr.
Torrey. In a late sermon, when warning sinners, he is reported to have
said: "You will go out into eternity disgraced forever." Is that all?
Only disgraced? Why does he not present the horrors of eternal fire in
which he professes to believe?
Another minister, whom I know, spoke lately of wicked men as "going out
into the darkness, miserable failures." Such trimming fails to command
the respect of sensible, honest men.
Those who hold the larger view have no need for such evasions. I have
just had a letter from one of the most eminent English theologians, in
which he states his view thus:
"With regard to the future world, my faith and doctrine have always been
that the state of anyone entering the next world is tested and
determined by his relation to Christ, Whom he will then see in the
fullness of all His redeeming power and glory. If he then seek by a
touch to lay hold of Him, he is in Christ's Hand. If he should even then
turn from Christ, he will enter into a new condition, but that condition
is only an age-long condition, and he is not there fore outside the
redeeming love of God; but at the end of the new age will enter upon a
new state."
I have pointed out to him that, in my view, the condition he refers to
may not necessarily be age-long condition, but that in certain cases it
may be very brief. The case of Saul and others seem to favor this view.
In any case, he endorses my main contention--that suffering is not
endless. The same mail brought me also a letter from another notable
English divine, in which he says candidly that he does not believe in
endless suffering, and that this is common sense.
I remember well that as a child I was confused by the following problem.
My saintly old minister often prayed that the earth might be filled with
the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. That was all
very well for those who would savingly know the Lord. But what about the
uncounted millions in the past and the millions now, and the millions
yet to be born, who would go out of this world in darkness, without
knowing the Lord. The minister never said a word about that. His creed
required him to believe that they would all go into endless torment; but
he passed over the momentous question in silence.
Possibly he would say that the matter was not a proper one to be spoken
of. But why not? If there is such a fearful possibility for anyone, why
should he not be warned? The very warning might be the means of averting
such a fate. Surely, the most lurid picture of eternal woe would be
better than the realization of it. Yet it was seldom or never spoken of,
especially as to its duration.
Here, then, is a most serious consideration. If we can think of God
doing a thing, the horror of which we cannot bear to speak of, or even
to think of, is there not in this a strong presumption that the theory
is not true? Let this thought revolve for a while through your mind;
remember the strong affinity which the mind has for truth; and then see
if the thought which I am trying here to sustain is not a reasonable
one. Surely, we have here a strong argument against the theory of
endless torment.
There was lately a great Missionary Conference in Edinburgh. Amongst
other matters, all sorts of expedients were discussed as to how the
heathen of different countries could be most successfully reached.
Certain doctrines of Christianity were recognized as best fitting to be
presented to certain countries, as especially suited to meet the special
conditions that prevail. Strange to say, so far as I saw any report, the
doctrine of everlasting punishment was not once suggested as being
especially appropriate. Yet if it is true, what could be more
appropriate to the heathen mind of all countries? Is it really believed
by Missionaries, and those who support them? If it is, why not present
it? If it is not, why not expunge it from our stated confession of
faith? Can we not afford to be honest on this supremely sacred question?
When an intelligent heathen is converted to the Christian faith, and
realizes that we profess to believe what we do not really believe, what
will he think of us? Will not the Christian church lose more than it
gains by this worldly wisdom, which essentially is moral cowardice?
A devout use of the imagination is of great service here. Yes, I say the
imagination. I do not mean the revelling of mere fancy in the realm of
the unthinkable or the impossible. I mean the vivid realization of facts
that lie outside the ordinary rut of thought. So exercised, imagination
is one of our noblest powers.
We need a devout, yet chastened, imagination in dealing with such themes
as the one we are considering now. No wonder that Ruskin says that
imagination is the greatest power of the soul. It is but reasonable to
imagine, then, that God has disclosures of love, and wisdom, and power,
to make in the next life, that far transcend our present thought.